


All of the Good and All of the Bad

by Queen_Morbid



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Cheating, Children, Divorce, F/M, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Love, Marriage, Oral Sex, Protectiveness, Rough Sex, Sex, Soulmates, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Morbid/pseuds/Queen_Morbid
Summary: I've compiled all of my Happy Lowman drabbles and one-shots into one area. The mini-series, however, will have their own spot. Each chapter will contain a different story and I hope you all enjoy them greatly ♥





	1. My Ole Man

Pupils were dilated, shock and fear ever present in the depths of your eyes. Crimson flecks were splattered across your right cheek, stomach churning with disgust. Happy stood over a slain Nord, his gun still cocked and aimed. An uneven breath left your lips before you stumbled backward, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“Jesus Christ.” You panicked, a hand going to your face where you began wiping the blood off. When it came to being an outlaw, you risked being a target, but so did your family. Their ties to you could be used as leverage, or vengeance, depending on the scenario. And that happened, the war between the Sons and the Nords caused a ripple effect.

Families were at risk now, which was proven further by the attempted assassination and rape of Happy’s old lady. Luckily, he had been there, the intruder didn’t stand a chance. His inner killer had surfaced and taken charge of the situation, easily discarding the racist piece of shit.

“I feel like I can’t breathe.” You paced, your hand settled over your chest as you shot your man a concerned glance. “Is this what a heart attack feels like?” You questioned out loudly, head shaking from side to side. His finger skillfully put the safety on of the Glock before sheathing it in his waistband. He could sense the fear rolling off you in deep waves.

Killing wasn’t anything new to him, but to you, you had never experienced such a horrific crime. Although you were his old lady, he kept you sheltered from the shit he did. He never went into detail with his business with the club, only the need to know. You never pried, accepting the little information he always gave you. You were too precious to taint with the world he lived in, the life of an outlaw, the life of a criminal.

Happy immediately stepped towards you, cupping your face between his rough hands. “Calm down little girl.” His coal irises bore into yours, trying to talk you down from the fear. Fingers intertwined with your thick hair, drawing your small frame into his much larger one. “I’ll handle it, you need to relax.” He commanded, always taking on the role of the dominant one.

You sagged in his embrace, trying to calm down and order the images of death from your mind. The bullshit that plagued the club had never landed on their doorstep before, but there was a dead body in their bedroom. Blood staining the lightly colored carpet, throwing dark energy out.

You knew what you had gotten yourself into when you first started dating Happy. You and him went through his cheating, his inability to express his feelings, everything that came with the club. You had dealt with it all and stuck it out because you loved him. You knew the life was dangerous and knew the risks of it all. However, the sight of your ole man killing someone didn’t sit well with you.

Fingers dug into his biceps as you clung to him, trying to focus on your erratic breathing. “Clean this shit up Hap.” Peeling your body from his, before walking towards the living room, still stunned at the recent events.

Happy watched you leave the room, his attention then returning to the dead peckerwood. His face turned wild and angry, pissed that this fucker would try to hurt his woman. No one would ever touch her, not if he was around. He’d slaughter anyone that thought ill about her, who looked at her wrong. She was his, and he’d happily murder for her at any given time.

That woman was his soul and heart, and no one fucked with her. Grunting, he’d before grabbing the legs of the Nord, dragging him out of the bedroom and into the garage. Deciding what to do with the body.


	2. The End of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You had been Happy Lowman’s old lady at one point until things turned sour. Four years after your split, you return to Charming in need of help, along with a shocker that stuns the Tacoma Killer.

(PART 1)

4 YEARS AGO

You knew what the men of SAMCRO did on the road, you weren't a clueless little girl. You had seen fellow ole ladies go through what you were currently going through, all of them in one way or another, expecting it. However, it didn’t change the fact that the pain was real and very alive in the encasement that was your heart. Little things had begun piling up such as marks on Happy’s body that you didn’t leave, his lack of desire to fuck you, his lack of interest of you in general, but the biggest sign was that he hadn’t spent the night at home in nearly a month.

His side of the bed remained empty and untouched, your eyes staring longingly at the spot where he used to lie. The uneasiness in your stomach kept you restless, causing you to roll onto your back, exhaling a low breath. A stoic gaze moved to the bedside table where you grabbed your cellphone, heart sinking at the time. 2:00 AM. Another night would be spent up and waiting for the ghost of the man you loved so helplessly.

There was a faint mechanical roar in the back streets of their neighborhood, a noise that was quite familiar to you. Easily, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, the beat of your heart steadily increasing as you listened to the chopper grow nearer.

The headlights of his motorcycle seeped through the shudders of their bedroom, casting shadows along the walls. He cut the engine and stepped off, the chain hanging from his jeans, rattling audibly. As he made his way to the front door, you peeled yourself from the bed and wandered down the hallway. The moment he busted through the front door, you could smell the stench of liquor and weed that wafted off him.

Your arms were crossed over your chest, head pressed back into the nearest wall as you stood there quietly. Happy surveyed you with a dark, sinister gaze, jaw straining noticeably. His arm extended behind him as he blindly slammed the door shut, the force causing the walls to tremble. Idly, he shrugged the kutte from his shoulders, tossing it onto the love seat beside him.

“Where ya been Hap?” You asked softly.

With little to no interest, he allowed his eyes to sweep over you in a slow, haunting, pace. You were in one of his t-shirts, and a pair of panties. The largeness of his shirt hid the curves he had once loved, and the logo SAMCRO was printed directly over the pair of breasts he had ravished numerous times, they stood pert and at attention, wordlessly begging him to be touched. He also knew his crow was etched into your right tit, bearing his name proudly. It had belonged there years ago, but now, he wasn’t sure if it did, if you belonged in his life anymore.

“Out.” His response short, feeling that you didn’t need to know anything he did. It wasn’t your business.

Boots dragged across the carpet as he made his way to the kitchen, seeking out refuge from a cold beer. You were quick on his heels, worry evident on your face. “Don’t make me ask again, Happy.” You threatened, which resulted in him snorting, still focused on ignoring you and finding a beer.

Once he did, he pushed the fridge door shut then twisted off the cap of the bottle and took a greedy guzzle. His lips smacked together somewhat before fixating his attention on you again. “Don’t worry about it, girl.” He shouldered past you gently, intent on watching tv and forgetting that you existed. They had been together for 3 years, first starting off as a random fling, but it transpired into something much more. Both falling deeply and insanely in love with one another, unable to quench your thirst of each other. Yet, as their relationship progressed, so did the routine apple-pie life.

It was a life he wasn’t used to, a life he had never wanted. He was an outlaw, he had been a nomad for years before transferring to Charming. This wasn’t what he had signed up for, he didn’t want normal and comfortable. He wanted uncontrollable and chaotic, he fiend for it. The adrenaline rush that accompanied all the illegal bullshit he did, kept him high far longer than any drug could.

Now, here he was, playing house with a woman he wasn’t entirely sure he still loved. You weren't a bad woman, he knew you loved him and cared for him, and probably would die for him, but it wasn’t enough. You were loyal, beautiful, stubborn, and willing to put others before yourself, deeming you selfless. You were the perfect fuckin’ package, but he had grown bored of you.

So, he started seeking out pussy, pussy that had no strings attached to it. Women flocked to him, feeding off the dangerous vibe he threw off, gravitating to it. They sated his sexual desires, then he got rid of them. They knew better than to stick around, and if they didn’t, he was kicking them to the curb without a second thought. No remorse for the way he treated them, cause’ pussy was pussy.

“Don’t ignore me, Happy Lowman.” You growled, clearly growing irritated with his uncaringness.

He flipped through the channels on the tv, desperately trying to block her out, but he couldn’t. He knew how you got when you were angry, and it was a fight that he couldn’t avoid. Not anymore.

“You don’t think I know what you’re out doing? Do you think I’m that fucking stupid?” You growled again.

The muscles in his shoulders tensed, hearing the anger in your voice. He wasn’t scared nor hurt, instead, he was pissed. You knew better than to sass him, yet here you were with balls of steel, laying into him with no care for the repercussions.

“Watch your mouth, little girl.” He stated coolly, eyes swiveling towards you.

“Or what? You gonna go out and fuck another bimbo? Please, be my fucking guest.” You snorted.

So, you knew what he was doing? It wasn’t a surprise that you would, he didn’t care enough to cover his tracks. It was his way of slowly pushing you out of his life, making it your decision to leave when you finally had enough. All he could do was crack a taunting smirk, before taking another drink of beer.

That had been enough to send you into a fit of rage, your hand reaching for the nearest thing to you, which was a small potted plant. Soon, you were hurling it at his face, dirt exploding from the pot and coating him efficiently. “You’re such a piece of shit! You don’t even have the balls to tell me, and if you can't tell me, you couldn't even have the decency to hide it! It’s like you want to hurt me, after everything we’ve been through, how could you?” You cried out.

He was up within a second after being pegged with the plant, black eyes flaring to life with an undeniable enmity. Happy cornered you against the wall, hand wrapping around your chin where he forcefully made you stare up at him, his voice coming out in a hushed, ruthless whisper. “Cause’ I’m tired of you, you bore the shit outta me. You’re too normal, too routine, and I’m not about that life. I’m an outlaw, (Y/N). I live for guns, drugs, fighting, killing, and pussy. Our entire relationship was a mistake, you were just an overused piece of ass that I thought I loved, but I don’t.”

Tears began forming and all you could do was stand there, letting them roll down your cheeks. A whimper left your lips as you tried to look away, unable to face him. Happy’s grip tightened, forcing your eyes back to his as he growled out the final words that would break you completely. “What do I have to do to get you to hate me? I don’t want you anymore girl.”

And that was all it took for you to realize, you had fallen in love with the wrong person. The Happy who was screaming at you wasn’t the man you had loved and known, instead, he was calloused and cold. Lips parted as your quivering voice came out. “I do hate you.” You confirmed, his hold slowly loosening.

“Good.” Were the last words he said to you before he went over and grabbed his kutte and marched out of the house.

That was the last time you had seen him.

 

PRESENT DAY

The drive to Charming had been a long one, and one that you had dreaded, but one you had to make nonetheless. Eyes moved to the rearview mirror of your car, protectively watching over the slumbering child that was nestled in his car seat. Wavy, dark brown hair was splayed across his forehead, one tiny hand gripping a sippy cup, while the other held onto his stuffed dinosaur. You watched the rise and fall of his chest, before sighing.

A month after the end of your relationship, you found out you were pregnant. Three months pregnant to be exact. You never bothered telling Happy, fearing he would reject his son. He hadn’t wanted a normal life, and a normal life consisted of children.

Six months ago, the 3-year-old had been diagnosed with Hemophilia. You had worked 2 jobs to pay for whatever medical expenses insurance didn’t cover. You struggled with money and stability, slowly easing your way into debt of 20 grand. It was hard taking care of a constantly sick child and trying to maintain hope that he’d survive, even when a big part of you knew, that he could possibly pass away.

He had been an unwelcome gift, one that you loved. The love you held for your son, Maddox, was unlike any love you had ever experienced. You'd do anything for that little boy, even willingly giving him your life if you could. Finically you were struggling and needed help, help from the one person you never wanted to face again.

Pulling into the lot of TM, you could feel anxiety spring free in your chest, making you question if your showing up was a good idea. Brakes squealed as you pushed on them to place the car in park. Hands fumbling with the keys as you yanked from the ignition, attempting to brace yourself.

“Momma, where at?” Maddox questioned, sleepily looking towards you.

Turning your head, you peered over the seat at the groggy toddler. Offering a reassuring smile, you’d rub his tiny leg. “We are here to see daddy.” That sentence alone was enough to cause the small boy to perk up, hands clapping together excitedly. “Reree? Daddy is here?” He asked, glancing out the window, chestnut irises searching eagerly for the man he had seen pictures of and heard his mother speak of.

The sight alone was enough to make your heartbreak, knowing that your son had been anxious to meet his father ever since he was old enough to ask about him. You never kept Happy a secret from Maddox, you wanted your son to know that he had a father, but his mommy and daddy just weren’t meant to be together. You constantly reassured the boy that his father would love him if the two ever met. Never wanting to douse the image that he had created of Happy, you couldn’t do that.

“Yes baby, daddy’s here. Are you ready to meet him? It’s okay if you aren’t, we can always come back tomorrow.” You rambled, unsure of if the wide-eyed boy was ready to meet his father. Maddox impatiently began tugging at his straps. “Momma, I’m otay, I want to meet daddy. Pleaseee.” He begged.

“Okay, okay. We’ll go.” You smiled.

Getting out of the car, you’d go to the back door, opening it and leaning over to undo his straps. “You feeling okay buddy?” You asked, wanting to make sure that your son was up for this visit.

“I’m otay momma, gosh. I pwomise.” He nodded, before climbing out of his car seat and standing beside you.

A hand clutched his superman backpack, allowing it to hang off one shoulder while your hand was engulfed by his small, fragile one. He looked up at to you with soft, sparkling eyes and you could only smile down at him before leading him down the familiar pathway to the clubhouse.

Being a mother, basic maternal instincts were there, but having a sickly child only caused them to double in an effort to protect them from any and all things dangerous. Maddox was a happy kid, never complaining about the procedures he had to endure, but you knew that it was putting a strain on him being a kid. He had to be careful while playing, avoiding bumps, scratches, and roughhousing, all the things that defined an early childhood as a boy.

He had a port in his chest, where factor 8 medication would be dispensed. This allowed his blood to clot properly, preventing him from bleeding out internally or externally. He was small for his size, only reaching the base of your hip, but he was wild and comedic. He loved dinosaurs and all the typical boy things, but he was intelligent and was always quick to catch onto things.

In the auto shop, you could spot a few men, mainly mechanics, a few you recognized and others you didn’t. “Hey momma, do you fwink daddy will love me?” Maddox asked, You squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“Of course, he’d be crazy if he didn’t.” You smirked.

Hands gripped the door handle of the clubhouse entrance before pushing it open slowly, allowing your son to dip inside first, following behind closely. When you entered you found the face of the Tig Trager, which you had grown to love and cherish while being with Happy.

“Holy shit, (Y/N) is that you babe?” Tig said from behind the pool table, fingers curled around a pool stick.

Maddox was quick to shrink back in fear, hiding behind you, tiny hands grasping at your thigh. “In the flesh.” You smiled, only for Tig to ambush you with a bone-crushing hug. He kissed you briefly on the cheek before pulling back and admiring you. “You look smokin’, I’m happy to see you.” He smiled.

However, his attention was easily captivated by the little human peeking out from behind you. Crouching down to the kid’s eye level, he’d tilt his head before speaking. “Hey, little man, what’s your name?”

“Maddox.” Was the statement that left his plump little lips, nails digging into your jeans.

“Who’s kid?” Tig said after standing up straight, blue eyes trying to read your face.

“Mine.” Was the answer that danced in the air.

Tig’s eyes widened in shock, hand going to rub along his chin. “Who knocked you up? Hope he ain’t a dirtbag or I’ll have to pay him a visit.”

Scoffing softly, you would run your fingers through Maddox’s hair soothingly. “He’s Happy’s son. Which is why I’m here, is he here?” You asked.

Your answer wasn’t answered by Tig, instead of by Happy’s sudden appearance, arm draped across a busty blonde’s shoulders. The outlaw with the curly black hair could only shift uncomfortably, staring between you and Happy. Clearing your throat purposely, you’d watch as the Tacoma Killer’s attention was inhabited by your form.

“(Y/N), that you?” He asked, almost expecting it to be a trick of the mind.

When the two separated, Happy was well, happy. He felt as if he got his freedom back, he could do what he wanted, fuck who he wanted. There was no one holding him back, no one to get on his ass about where he was or who he was with. Yet, after a few months, being single, wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He wanted you back, he was a stupid asshole to cheat, to hurt you. He definitely got what he wanted, you hated him and by the next day, you were gone.

The endless amount of pussy held no flame to fucking the woman you loved. Four years later, he still loved you, still wanted you, but he fucked it all up like he always did. His gaze was locked onto you like a target, still unable to believe that you were actually back in Charming. Then his eyes fell to a small boy standing behind you, his face pure and innocent, clinging onto the woman he called mother.

Jealousy burned a hole in his heart, figuring you had gotten knocked up by some man. Unwinding his arm from the sweet butt, he’d nod in the direction of the front door, signaling that it was time for her to leave. She knew the rules and silently strutted out, not looking back.

“I need your help, I had nowhere else to go.” You said calmly, but he knew that it took a lot for you to admit that you needed him, that you needed help. You were stubborn and always had independent, it was a surprise that you were asking for anything from him. “Outside.” He stated firmly.

You could only roll her eyes at his dominant persona, some things never changed. Happy was walking past them, curiously eying the kid, similarities in his bone structure that reminded him of his own. Shaking his head slightly, he proceeded outside, waiting for you and the kid. “C’mon on baby, let’s go.” You murmured at Maddox, leading him outside.

Happy was seated on the top of the picnic table, arms resting along his thighs. He was now chewing absentmindedly on a toothpick, brown irises narrowed in on you and your son. “You okay? What’s going on?” He asked. Why did you come to him? The fact that you couldn’t get help from anyone else made him worried. Sharp teeth began dwindling the wooden stick down to small fragments.

“This is Maddox, he’s your son, and he’s sick.” You ushered out quickly, hands resting on the shoulder of the boy, Happy’s breath hitching as he stared at the small human who was 50 percent him and 50 percent her.

 

PART TWO

 

The conversation from the day you told Happy that Maddox was his son, kept playing on repeat in your head. It was a reaction you had expected, but it still surprised you, and you knew it had hurt both you and the small boy.

Thick brows were tucked inwards in a shocked expression, teeth hooked into the toothpick. For a while, there was an unnerving silence brewing between all three of them. Maddox was standing beside his mother, patiently awaiting the sound of his father’s approval, but it never came.

“Bullshit.” Happy growled through gritted teeth. It had been four years and out of the blue you come back with a kid, one that you were claiming was his. He didn’t buy it, how could he? If Happy was one thing, he was untrusting of anything and everyone.

“S’cuse you.” You warned, hands protectively draping over your son’s tiny shoulders. Crouching down, you’d whisper in his ear, soothingly rubbing at his arms. “Go inside, Uncle Tigger is in there, tell him momma asked if he could watch you for a few minutes.” Maddox bobbed his head up and down before teetering to the door and disappearing into the clubhouse.

Stalking forward slowly, you would cast a rage-fueled gaze in his direction. He didn’t find you to be a threat, but he should have, cause when it came to your son, you’d wage war on the entire damn world. Muscles were rigid throughout your entire body, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“Bullshit? Why would I come all the way back to lie? You think I wanted to see your fuckin’ face ever again? No. I didn’t, but he needs help and so do I, he’s your son and if you can’t accept that, then I’ll gladly get a paternity test. You wanted to be single and fuck whomever, I’m not here to change that, but he is your son, and if you want to miss out, then so be it. But it’s not going to hurt me, it’s going to hurt him and you.” You sounded.

You had always had a foul mouth and an even worse temper, but this tantrum was all due to his disbelief of the kid being his. Happy kept calm, merely observing you with calculating eyes. Somewhere deep down, he knew you were right, you wouldn’t have returned to Charming to lie and to try and pull the wool over his eyes. Yet his stubbornness prevented him from admitting defeat, instead, he demanded the maternity test.

“Get the test girl, when I get the results, we can talk.” He barked, rising to his full stature and trekking in the direction of his bike, straddling it and roaring off out of the lot.

“Momma, I’m hungy.” Maddox whined, snapping you out of your daze.

Blinking, you’d refocus your attention on the boy who was sitting on the edge of the bed that belonged to the motel room they were currently in. “Okay baby, what do you feel like eating for dinner?” You asked.

His little feet touched the floor as he jogged in the direction of the table near the window of the room. Standing on the tips of his toes, he’d reach over it, grabbing a laminated paper of nearby locations that offered food. He brought it over to his mother, extending the article and humming. “I want chicken nuggers.” He beamed.

You could only chuckle at his choice of dinner, it was his usual request. He loved chicken nuggets and could possibly eat them for every meal if you allowed it. “Okay, we can go somewhere, where they have chicken nuggets, get your shoes on buddy.” You ordered softly.

He let out an excited squeal as he bounded for his light up spiderman shoes by the end of the bed. A smile sprawled out across your lips, completely captivated by the beauty that was your son. As you were gathering the things you’d need for the trip to a restaurant, there was a knock at the door.

“I get it, momma!” Maddox called, which made you jump after him. He was already at the door, yanking it open, your voice trailing out. “Don’t answer the doo-.“ You and the boy stood there, staring at Happy who was dressed in a white t-shirt with his kutte draped over. He had jeans that hung off his hips in their usual fashion, and a knife placed within its sheath and underneath his waistband.

“Daddy?” Maddox asked, looking over to you, where you simply nodded.

Instinctively your arms reached out, dragging the small toddler against your front, gaze narrowing at Happy. “What do you want?” You snarked.

One of his hands dipped to the back pocket of his jeans, where he pulled out a piece of paper. “Got the results, he is my son.” He stated something that you already knew. Yet all you could do was bob your head up and down in confirmation.

Maddox could only glance back and forth between his parents, trying to make out what they were saying.

“Can we talk.” It wasn’t a question, more of a demand that fled from the Tacoma Killer’s lips. You could only exhale a wavering breath before nodding. “Sure, we were about to get dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

Happy nodded curtly before you dipped back into the room to grab Maddox’s bag and your wallet. Striding back to them, you’d usher the tike outside so you could close the door to the motel room. “Alright, kiddo let’s go.” You brushed your fingers over your son’s wavy brown hair.

“Where ya headed?” Happy asked as he strode behind the two, keeping an eye on them, a protective instinct emerging tenfold.

“Joanne’s.” You replied gently.

Joanne’s was only a few blocks away, and it surprisingly wasn’t too chilly, which it usually was in Charming, given the town was on the coast of Northern California. They had been walking for ten minutes or so when young Maddox halted his movements and stood there looking back at Happy. One of his hands was already intertwined with your’s, but his free hand reached out and held onto his father’s much larger and calloused one. “Come on daddy.” He cooed.

You looked towards Happy to read his expression but found he lacked one. Yet there was a shimmer in his eyes that you had never seen before in the time you two were together. Once the boy was holding onto both of his parents, they all continued their little adventure.

Happy hadn’t expected the boy to just grab his hand, it came as a surprise. It was hard for him to be affectionate with anyone in general, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to be as a father. The paternity results had come earlier in the day, describing with a positive result that the boy was in fact his. He had felt like shit at his initial reaction, completely denying him as his own. But he was set on making it up to him, he had missed four years and he was set on being there on from that point.

The entire time to Joanne’s he was completely enamored by his son. Maddox was talking about his favorite types of dinosaurs and how he was a big boy and could handle the pokes and prods from the doctors. He even signaled to the port in his chest beneath his shirt, filling in his father on all the important things he hadn’t been a part of.

It pained the outlaw to have missed so much in his only child’s life, but it hurt, even more, to know that you had raised him all alone. You had no family or friends outside of the club, and when they broke up, you had lost not only him but the sons as well. You had no help when it came to their son, you had toughed it out and did everything all on your own. This made him look at you in a completely different light, made him look at you as a complete badass. A woman who knew no bounds and needed no help to fend for yourself or her child. Fuck, you were the most phenomenal thing in the world.

When they arrived at the diner, they were seated almost immediately, Maddox placed in a high chair at the end of the table. You had asked the waitress to give them a few minutes to decide, the boy busy coloring on his kiddy menu.

Eyes skimmed over the menu, trying to decide on what you wanted to eat yourself. “You said he was sick, what’s he sick with?” Happy broke the silence, his voice causing your stomach to flutter.

After all the years that passed, when you looked at the man, you found yourself being just in love with him as you were many moons ago. Setting the menu down, you’d lean back in the booth, huffing gently. “He has Hemophilia, it’s a rare blood disorder. His body doesn’t make blood clots, so if he is injured he could bleed out, internally or externally. He was diagnosed six months ago, and it’s been a long journey to get to where he’s at. We had a few scares, but they finally found a medication his body didn’t reject, and he’s been, okay. For now.” You frowned, looking towards your son who wasn’t paying any mind to you or his father.

Nervously he chewed on the toothpick that was placed between his teeth, listening intently to you. On top of having a kid, he now had a kid who had a severe disease. One that could possibly kill him if they weren’t careful. Now he had understood why you had returned to Charming to find him, the burden you bore was a burden you couldn’t face alone anymore. Coal irises flickered to the boy, deemed once cold and black, his heart began to break. Broke for the son he had only met a week ago, and broke for the woman he had torn apart.

“Shit, I am so sorry babe.” He mumbled, returning his attention back to the woman. “I’ll help with the medical bills, I’ll help with whatever you need. He’s my son and I want to be there for him and you too.” He stated.

TWO MONTHS LATER

 

Your back was pressed firmly into the chiseled, strong chest of Happy, the two of you were sound asleep, his arm placed over you waist possessively. His nose was also burrowed in the nook of your neck, warm breath dancing along your flesh. Unbeknown to either one of you, young Maddox was creeping into your room, a wicked smirk etched onto his tiny lips.

With a sudden rush of energy, he went flying onto the bed, worming his way between his sleeping parents. “Mommmmmy, wake up!” He yelled, running his fingers through your hair before looking over to his father. “Dada! Get up you sleepy butts.” He yelled once more, both beginning to stir. Soon, you were opening your eyes and turning to face your rambunctious son. “Good morning baby.” You smiled sleepily, brushing his hair from his eyes.

“Nana made bekfast. She told me to wake you boof up.” He smiled toothily, then turning to his father where he ran his itty fingers along the tattoo on Happy’s skull. Black eyes were soon prying themselves open only to be centered on his noisy son. “Boy, you’re loud.” He chuckled before patting his son’s back gently. Maddox beamed before rolling onto his father’s stomach where he began tickling at Happy’s arms. “Wakey wakey.” He cooed.

Suddenly Happy was wide awake, quick to retaliate on his son, where he began tickling at the boy’s armpits and sides. The room was filled with loud, content giggles as Maddox wiggled off the bed. “I go eat now. Hurry up otay guys?” Then with speedy movements, the kid was zooming out of the room, door slamming behind him.

Two months ago, you would have never imagined your life being like this. You thought you'd still be raising your son alone, and Happy being only a distant memory. Yet, that wasn’t the case. After coming back to Charming, Happy kept to his word and was there to help with Maddox whenever he could. It wasn’t until their son got sick that you two reconciled.

The Tacoma Killer had confessed of his mistakes and how he had missed you. You both spent several hours speaking of things you both held deep down over the years. Eventually concluding that you both still loved one another and that you wanted to raise Maddox, together.

Soon after the boy’s recovery, you moved into Happy’s house, where his mother currently resided. You looked after both mama Lowman and their son. While mama Lowman also helped to look after the small boy, falling madly in love with her only grandchild. You found your family to be perfect despite the ups and downs, knowing you wouldn’t trade anything in the world for what you had now.

You lied there on your back, an arm draped over your eyes as you tried to wake up fully. However, Happy’s shifting on the mattress and then settling between your legs made you move your arm away and look at him with an elevated brow. “What are you up to Lowman?” You asked with a forming smirk.

His tattooed arms laid on both sides of your body, his lips tilted back in a sly smile. “Showin’ some love to my ole lady.” His lips were soon on the sweet spot beneath your ear, sucking and licking before moving his way down. Teeth ribbed over your pulse before leading down to your collarbone. Small moans elicited from your throat as you wrapped your leg around his waist, drawing his erected dick against your clothed core.

Hands gripped his face forcing him to look at you. “I love you, Happy.”

A hand went to your chin where he stroked it gently. “I love you too, (Y/N.)” Was all he spoke before his lips connected with yours, molding together perfectly.


	3. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find out you're pregnant with Happy’s baby, thus breaking the news to him. However, he doesn’t take the news as you would have hoped, and you're left in turmoil while Happy drowns his emotions in liquor and women.

Your hand clutched the sonogram picture, attention fastened onto the small, developing fetus that lied promptly in the still. The tiny being of life looked like a growing human, not so much like an alien anymore. It had 10 fingers and 10 toes, its eyelashes, and hair on its head were beginning to form. It was about the size of an avocado currently, still very small and requiring mommy to keep he or she safe. The news of your pregnancy had been a big surprise and somewhat overwhelming.

You hadn’t been on birth control and Happy and yourself never used a condom, so it shouldn’t have come as much of a shock. Yet, it was. you and Happy had only been in a relationship for a year, still budding in the honeymoon phase, and you weren’t sure how he’d take the news. A big part of you hoped that he’d take the news well, that maybe somewhere deep down beneath his rough exterior, he wanted to be a father.

A sigh passed through your lips, stress weighing down your chest. You were nearly four months along, the doctor said both you and the baby were healthy, and the little guy or gal was growing at the expected rate. The following week, you would have blood work to do just to make sure there was nothing internally wrong. However, the doctor said there wasn’t anything to worry about, only subduing your worries momentarily.

There had been signs that indicated a pregnancy, but signs you overlooked. There was the slight morning sickness, tender breasts, and the unusual craving for dill pickles. Which you had hated ever since you were a kid. All of this you could only relate to an upcoming period, one that had been missing for the last 3 and a half months. Your cycles had always been off, and so the thought of a baby growing inside of your womb had never crossed your mind. Not until Happy pointed out your swelling breasts and the small circular curve of your lower abdomen.

Eyes skittered towards the clock on the stove, seeing it was only 5:30 pm. Happy would be at TM until 6:30, and that gave you time to stew and worry for an hour. The baby was not just your responsibility, but his too, and you both needed to decide on what to do. How to handle it, how to raise it, and if he even wanted to be apart of the kid’s life.

☾ ☾

Oil and grease coated the outlaw’s hands, which were firmly curled around the handlebars of his Harley. The engine idled lowly beneath him, boots planted on the concrete driveway keeping the piece of machinery in place. The days that he worked at the auto shop he was usually home by 7pm, however, when he had business with the club, his arrival varied.

Coal embers glanced in the direction of your Chevrolet Cruze parked on the street, knowing you were home. Today was your day off from the tattoo shop, and he wanted nothing more to curl up on the couch with you and have a nice, cold beer. Cutting the engine and taking the key from the bike, he’d rise to his overwhelming, full stature. His strides were wide and predatory like as he made his way to the front door, unlocking it and pushing it open.

The moment he was inside, he was shutting the door quietly behind him and undoing his work boots. “(Y/N?)” He called gruffly, wondering where you were. Once his boots were off and sitting by the front door, he began making his way into the living room, finding his old lady asleep peacefully on the couch. Lips twitched subtly, the corners slightly pricking into a smile, until he shook his head, regaining his hard expression once more.

He silently looked over the living room, finding everything to be in its place and clean. Something he appreciated about you, you could keep up with his neat-freak ways. You weren't messy, and you always put everything back in the proper spots. The tv played softly in the background, he assumed you had fallen asleep to whatever was on. Turning, he’d make his way to the kitchen, intentions set on a cold booze.

Happy was soon leaning down, rummaging through the fridge, while grabbing ahold of a Corona. Regaining his normal posture, his eyes danced along a photo on the fridge, pinned down by magnets. He did a double take, pupils widening before he grabbed the sonogram with a quick snap of his hands. He read the name in tiny lettering above the image of the fetus (Y/F/N – Y/L/N) and all he could do was grit his teeth.

Happy’s muscular legs were carrying him subconsciously down the hallway and back into the living room where he flung the picture at your sleeping form. “What the fuck is this?” He spat.

The feeling of fluttering paper on your face, and then Happy’s booming voice spooked you awake. “Wha-.“ You grumbled half asleep, a hand going to your eyes where you began to rub at them frantically. “What’s going on Hap?” Yet, your question was answered when you saw the sonogram on your chest. Easing yourself up, you’d grab the photo, hurt lingering over your heart at the thought of his lack of interest in the picture of the baby you both had taken part in making.

“Answer me little girl, what the fuck is that?” He growled.

You had seen Happy angry plenty of times before, but his anger had never been directed towards you, not like this. Swallowing harshly, you'd grip the black and white photo a little tighter. “It’s a baby, it’s your baby.” You said.

The look of shock on his face made your stomach churn unhappily, and then he snapped. “No fuckin’ way is that thing mine. And if it is mine, get rid of it. I don’t fuckin’ want it.” He said. His words were enough to send your already elevated hormones, overboard. Tears made their way front and center, brimming over your eyes lids and falling down your cheeks.

“What do you mean get rid of it? I’m not getting rid of it Happy! It’s our baby.” You rose to your feet, hollering at him, trying to make a point.

He stepped closer to you, staring you down with a disgusted scowl. “I want nothin’ to do with that god damn thing, either get rid of it or get the fuck out of my house.” After that, he was turning on his heels and storming out of the front door with his boots in tow. You chased after him, grabbing ahold of his bicep, wishing he’d just cool down.

“Don’t touch me.” He warned, snatching his arm away from you and backing his bike in reverse before roaring down the street.

You stood there in a confused stupor, he hadn’t acted in the way that you had hoped for. In fact, this was nothing close to what you expected. You had never seen anyone react so harshly to the news of a baby in your entire life, but then again Happy Lowman wasn’t just any sort of man. He was an outlaw, a renegade, white picket fences and kids just weren’t apart of the biker lifestyle. And if it was, it only happened rarely and far in between.

There was no denying the heartache you felt, each tiny intricate sliver of your heart was breaking into pieces. Shattering and ceasing to exist, because the man you had given your all to, wanted nothing to do with the life you had created, together. So, you stood there, dazed and confused, incapable of understanding where it went all wrong.

Tears were wiped on the back of your hand before you began retreating inside, deciding that it was time to go. There was no way in hell that you would abort your baby, no way in hell you’d ever choose Happy over the life blossoming in your belly. The moment you stopped putting yourself first, was the second you found out you were pregnant. No one would ever come before that baby, not even the man who branded his name on your heart.

☾ ☾

By the time Happy arrived at the club-house, he was fuming. A baby wasn’t apart of the plan, it never had been. Did he like kids? Sure. If they weren’t his, because he had no patience nor wish to deal with kids of his own. They were needy, grabby, attention seeking leeches, that would demand everything from him and you. The two of you had only been together 12 months, he wanted to be selfish with you, he didn’t want to share you with anyone, ever.

He wanted to be able to lounge around the house with, to fuck you on any surface of your home, to allow whatever feelings he had for you, to grow. He didn’t want to raise a kid, he didn’t want that kid putting a strain on your relationship. Something he had already done by blowing up on you. He had been a jack ass to think that not using a rubber wouldn’t end in a mistake. Cause that was what that thing growing in you was, a mistake.

He couldn’t fathom why you would want a baby with him, he was a criminal, a brooding outlaw. The life was something he would never give up, not even for his offspring. Were all women like that? Wanting to be married and to pop out mini versions of themselves and their partners? Apparently so. Yet, you had never brought up having kids with him, but he saw how you acted with Abel and Thomas. That motherly instinct being worn with pride, the desire to have one of your own, evident in the dreamy gaze of yours.

If you didn’t get rid of the baby, then that would be the end of the relationship. So, was he willing to risk their relationship all for the sake of a baby they made together? A baby that was made from admiration, carnal need, and pure love?

He hadn’t the slightest fucking clue.

All he did know was that he wanted to drown his rage in liquor, to forget for a while. So that’s what he did.

☾ ☾

Sometime after arriving at the club-house Happy had begun drinking, and not some feeble beers. He ordered round after round of Whiskey, easily downing it, the heat of the alcohol scorching any thoughts from his mind. When he was intoxicated enough, he pried some scantily dressed sweet butt from Half Sack’s arm, growling out. “You can have her when I’m done.” His arm dipped across the woman’s shoulder, leading her back to his old dorm room. A room in which he hadn’t spent any time in, since moving you in with him. Now here he was, about to bury all his frustrations and anger into some random bitch.

Yet as she was kissing his neck, and shimmying her way down to her knees, all he could think about was his pregnant old lady. Images of her kept repeating in his head, even new scenarios of her with a plump belly which housed his unborn son or daughter. Her smile, laugh, and gentle touch haunted his drunken mind, making him grunt in hindrance.

His dick didn’t even budge, refusing to get hard for anyone but you. That woman had completely captivated him, enthralled him with her entire being. You had your claws in him and let it be known that he would have one hell of a time getting over you. Happy Lowman had never admitted it, but he was very much in love with you. You had said it many times, confessing all the feelings you held for him, but all he could do was shy away from the subject. You understood though, understood that he wasn’t one for emotions, or much else. You had accepted him when hardly anyone else did, you loved him for the piece of shit that he was, and you made him want to be better, for you, for the relationship.

“Get off me.” He snarled, shoving the broad away from him and redoing his buckle and jeans. The unknown girl could only look at him with a stupefied expression, not knowing what had changed his mind. She was just there for a good time, which was now ruined by the indecisive biker.

With nothing else to say, Happy was exiting the room, intent on finding his girl. Wherever you were, he’d go and get you, bring you back home where you belonged. Looking towards Half Sack, he motioned towards the back room. “Didn’t touch the bitch, she’s all yours.” Then he was strutting towards the club-house front door, the crisp air of the coast marching across his face.

Just as he was mounting his chopper, he heard the familiar voice of his VP. “Hey, Hap!” Called the blonde-haired Son, who was now striding towards him with a swaggered strut.

“What’s goin’ on with you and (Y/N?) She’s at my place with Tara, she’s a mess brother.” Jax sussed.

Happy sighed before running his hand tersely over his face. “She’s pregnant, and I flipped the fuck out. And I just realized what a dumb ass I was.”

Jax’s mouth was shaped somewhat into an ‘O’, before patting his friend’s shoulder. “Having a kid is scary, no one will tell you that, but it’s true. Their these little human beings who just take over your life and you find yourself falling in love with them. Just know, no matter what. You and (Y/N) will be great parents, we all know you love her. We ain’t blind.” The VP chuckled before squeezing his shoulder. “Now, go kiss some ass.”

☾ ☾

“If Happy doesn’t realize how great this is gonna be for you both, then he’s an asshole and an idiot.” Tara sounded from the kitchen where she was fixing a bottle for little Thomas. You could only stare blankly at the wall, your back pressed into the sofa. Tara had become a close friend over the last year, one you confided in with everything involving Happy and the club life.

If anyone understood it, it was Tara Knowles. She had her own fair of shit-fests with Jax, and so far, the two were hanging on strong. The good doctor was raising a baby that wasn’t even hers on top of Thomas who was biologically hers. You didn’t know where else to go after the blowout with Happy, so you went to the only friend you had in Charming that wasn’t one of the SAMCRO boys.

“Jax will talk to him, knock some sense into him. And if he doesn’t, I will.” Tara said, now standing beside the backside of the couch. “I’m gonna feed Thomas if you get hungry or whatever. You know where the kitchen is.” The doctor allowed her fingers to brush over your shoulder in an attempt to soothe you before disappearing into the nursery.

All you could do was slump forward, elbows on knees, and face in the palms of your hands. For the last hour, all you had done was cry, and you were tapped out. The stress wasn’t good for you or for the baby, and you refused to jeopardize the kid’s health, despite your heartbreak.

“Fuck.” You breathed, running a hand through your tattered hair, brushing a few locks from your face.

Your head jerked towards the front door when you heard a loud knock. It was the sound of knuckles rapping over and over on the wooden frame. Glancing down at your phone, you realized it was 12 am, who the hell was knocking at Tara and Jax’s house at this time? Exhaling gently, you’d rise to your feet before trekking towards the door where you cautiously peeled it back.

“Happy?” You said, dumbstruck.

Her outlaw stood disheveled in front of her, eyes dark and glossy, most likely the from the liquor that she could smell seeping off his pores. “Are you drunk?” She snapped out with an agitated tint to her tone.

“I fucked up (Y/N.)” He swayed back and forth on unsteady feet, which made you slightly worried.

Yet when he said he fucked up, your mind instantly went to him cheating on you. “Did you go and fuck some croweater Hap?” You said low, trying to mentally prepare yourself for his answer.

“Almost. But I stopped it because I couldn’t get you out of my fuckin’ head.” He said.

And out went your sadness, which was quickly replaced with anger. “You what? Are you serious? I tell you I’m pregnant and you got out and immediately try to bag a fucking lay. You’re ridiculous!” You cried, your hands shoving into his stone-like chest.

He didn’t say anything, instead, he let you continue to berate him. Knowing that he deserved it and if anyone was going to beat him down, it would be you. Cause that’s the only person he’d ever let beat him down.

“I hate y-.” Your words were cut off by his bruising kiss, his calloused fingers tangling in your hair, drawing your bodies closer together. He protectively embraced you and bit into your bottom lip claiming. Then the words he had been dying to say for months, finally slipped out.

“I love you, (Y/N.)” He warm breath danced across your cheek, his black irises boring into your lively gaze.

His thumbs began stroking your cheeks as he confessed everything. “I love you, but I don’t want to end up like my pops. I don’t want to be a dead-beat dad. Findin’ out you were pregnant was the scariest shit I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve committed murder, I’ve tortured people just for the pure fuck of it. But knowin’ ya were havin’ my kid, just, it stilled me.”

You had waited so long to hear that he loved you, you honestly thought he’d never say it. But he did, and he meant it. You saw the look of terror in his eyes when he spoke of the unborn baby, and all you could do was calm his worries, all you could do was be there for him like you had been since day one.

“I always thought you’d be a great dad Happy, I never doubted that. And you will be the best daddy to our little one, you’ll never be like your father. Don’t ever think for one second that you are anything like him, cause you’re not.” You said.

Happy pressed his forehead against yours, his large hand sliding over your small baby bump. The first real time he even acknowledged that it was a baby and not just a thing. It was his baby, his child, and the woman he loved was carrying it.

“I love you Hap, even if you’re a pain in my ass.” You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Likewise, little girl.” He cracked a smirk before laying another passionate kiss to your lips, his fingers flexing over your growing stomach.


	4. Let You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Happy Lowman have been an on and off item for the last 6 months. Things never lasting long due to his calloused exterior, and the need to be with multiple women. One night, you overhear a conversation with Happy and his band of brothers, and you realize everything has been a lie.

Your breath came out quietly, almost hushed as you listened to the chattering of the men in the clubhouse. You were hidden behind the wall that ghosted along the hallway, Happy’s gruff voice echoing above the others, gaining their attention with efficiency. “Nah, she’s not my type. All she is a pretty face and some decent pussy.” The cackles of the other men in the room made your stomach tighten in betrayal. Bile climbed its way up the back of your throat and you fought to keep it down, not wanting to lose whatever control you had left.

For the past six months, you had been seeing Happy, it hadn’t been an official thing, but it wasn’t just a fling. He had acted so differently with you when the two of you were alone then he did when he was around his band of brothers. The next few minutes ticked by slowly, forcing everything out as she leaned against the wall trying to regain a calm composure. A numbness crept over your chassis, keeping out the emotions that dared threaten your peace of mind.

You needed to leave though, you couldn’t be around him when your walls did break. Inhaling a deep breath, you’d emerge into the main room, Tig sharply elbowed Happy’s side, warning him of your presence. Yet, you paid little mind to the boys, in fact, you were walking towards the bar and grabbing your car keys and bag. Settling the burgundy strap across your shoulder, you’d feel the slow creep of tension flood over every possible expanse of your body, making you bite into your lower lip.

You cautiously strode towards Happy, your voice coming out in a hushed whisper. “I’m gonna go, I’m not feeling too well. I think maybe it was something I ate.” You lied with a blank expression, hoping he’d buy your deceit. All he did was nod, his attention quickly returning to his friends where he took a drag of a joint that was being passed around.

Hands curled into fists at your sides as you turned your back to him and made your way out of the clubhouse. The moment the cold air slammed into you, you could release the tears that had built up. In the darkness, no one could see the hurt screaming in your gaze or the wetness of your cheeks. You choked back each sob, refusing to completely not break down over some lowlife, outlaw.

It was 3am and you were sprawled out across the sofa in the living room. Music played softly in the background, only fueling the sorrow that continuously pulsated through you. Everything about your and Happy’s relationship had been a falsehood. What he really thought of you was said to his friends, all you were good for was companionship and sex. Other than that, you were useless in his eyes. That thought alone made you queasy, a hand flexing over your stomach desperately trying to soothe the uneasiness.

Could you even call what the two of you had, a relationship? You weren't sure anymore. You had met in a bar, and when you didn’t fuck him on the first night, he made up his mind about pursuing you. Once he had you, things changed, but he stuck around. He played his little game until he got what he wanted from you, then completely disregarded the feelings you had developed for him. He did this, wanting to add you to his list of conquests, and he did.

He played the charming, ruthless, bad boy to get you into bed and every time after the first, he played that part. Yet when it was just the two of you, it had been a different story. He was attentive, caring, and humorous. You fucked and talked into the early hours of the morning. You spent most of your time with one another, however, each time he was around his friends, he had changed into someone unrecognizable.

So, you weren't sure of which side of Happy Lowman, was the truthful side. The one who thought so little of you, or the one who said he cared for you?

After a while, tears had run dry, only the residue of the salty liquid etched into the flesh of your cheeks. It was dark in the apartment, only the flickering of lights from the tv which played soft, melancholy music. The darkness seemed to fit your mood because, at that particular moment in time, you were struggling to find any upside of the situation you were in.

The sound of a knock at your front door didn’t surprise you. This was the routine, you'd be home, waiting for him, and when he had his fill of the booze and drugs, he’d come stumbling to you. For a split second, you debated on letting him in, debating on the decision to call it quits with him. But you knew you needed to call it off with him, you needed to lay into him and let him know that what he did, was not okay.

So, you begrudgingly rose to your feet, silently walking to the front door where you simply unlocked it. You took a seat back on the couch, watching his invasive frame emerge into your sanctuary. His eyes were blown with the effects of drugs and alcohol combined. Yet they studied you, trying to pinpoint how sick you exactly were.

However, you didn’t appear sick, you weren't clammy, pale, or anything else that could indicate an illness. So, he was curious as to why you had left the clubhouse so early, you were fine and that was apparent. But before he had the chance to speak, your voice was cutting the silence like a knife slicing into a stick of butter.

“Why do you hate me Happy?” You asked.

His brows furrowed in confusion, completely taken aback by your random question.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked.

You snorted, before asking the question again. “Why do you hate me? Answer me.”

He could only tilt his head, trying to understand where you were coming from.

“Cause’ you seem to only think of me as a piece of ass, but somehow I am not your type. So which is it?” You said in a sickly calm voice.

His demeanor hadn’t changed once, in fact, he was so caught up in the fact that you had heard what he had said about you. There was a twang of guilt resonating in the back of his head, for saying such acrid shit, but it was true. You weren't his type, you were too innocent, too god damn naïve and unscathed by the harshness of the world. He knew you were a good woman, but not the woman for him. He had no plans of ever settling down, and you didn’t change those plans.

“I don’t hate you, little girl.” He said honestly.

Your eyes rolled, not believing the words that spewed from his mouth. “Then why do you insist of leading me on? By pretending like you give a shit about me? Clearly you don’t, clearly, I was only useful for one thing which was a place to stick your dick in.”

His jaw strained, his tolerance for back-talk from anyone being extremely low. But he couldn’t be mad at you, you were defending yourself, and you had a legitimate reason to be pissed.

“You are one way with me, and then a completely different person with your friends. You’re a con artist, that’s what you are. You manipulated my feelings just, so you could fuck me, and after that, you just kept me around in case you got bored! That’s so fucked up.” You cried, cheeks flushing with tints of red.

“Everything you ever said and ever did was a fucking lie. All you are is a worthless thug, a womanizing piece of shit.” You growled out with hatred, eyes flaring to life with rage.

He could no longer keep quiet; his short fuse being ruptured. “You knew what you were dealing with the moment we met. You knew exactly what type of man I was, yet you chose to stick around. You wanted to tame me and tie me down, just like I wanted the thrill of fucking you and tossin’ you to the curb. So, get the fuck over it, little girl. It’s life, it ain’t fair.”

With the finality of his words, your palm went colliding into his cheek. Once a hand that had stroked him adoringly was now inflicting pain. All he did was blink, watching the upheave of your chest as you stuttered to keep control of yourself.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…” Youchoked on a sob, tears rushing down your flushed cheeks.

Happy did care for you, but nothing more than one human being caring for another. You were a good person and probably didn’t deserve what he did to you, but he did it. He gave you a taste of the brutal reality of the world, about how it fucked you over and left you broken.

“I’m sorry.” He said blandly before taking his leave, shutting the front door behind him.

The moment he left, was the moment you sunk to the floor in a shaking, tattered mess. You drew your knees up to your chest, hugging them, trying to force the pain away, but it wouldn’t go away. Nothing hurt more than being lied to, being played like a fool. And that was exactly what you were, a fool. A fool for falling in love with an outlaw.


	5. I Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Nords retaliation on SAMCRO, the club is forced to regroup. You, being Happy’s old lady is one of the few who was victimized in the war. However, you are now forced to face the demons that plague your head, but more importantly, you'll have to face yourself.

It had been one week, one week since the incident that would forever change you. Physically, you were the same, minus a few bruises, and scratches. However, mentally, everything was a jumbled mess with the ever-looming images and memories of what was done to you. You had become a shallow shell of your once former self, quiet and reserved, unable to look at the man you loved so deeply. Yet, he was one of the main reasons why it had happened. Your connections to him and the Sons were the only reasons why you were subjected to such horrendous torture and assault.

Yet, when you sat there and thought long and hard, you knew it wasn’t his fault or theirs. Even without your connection to Happy or SAMCRO, you knew you could be very well attacked and raped on any given day. That was the way of the world, the inner workings of it all, calloused and cold. It was life, whether it was shitty or not. Humans could be vile and cruel, and you knew you had experienced the worst of the worst.

You had kept distant from Happy and the Sons, not ready to face them just yet, and you weren't sure when you would be ready. You lived with Happy, but after all the chaos, he decided he’d stay a few days at the clubhouse, to give you the space you needed. You were thankful, but that space only drove you up the wall with angst and anxiety.

On the days he was home, you still avoided him. The outlaw was growing restless and stressed, unable to accept that he was being pushed to the back burner by his ole lady. So, when they sat at the table, silently eating dinner, he had enough.

“Why are you pushin’ me away, little girl?” He leaned back in the chair, coal irises searching your face.

Silverware scraped against the plate in a sudden jerk, surprised that Happy decided to bring up the conversation you had been trying to dodge. The lifeless gaze of your's dropped to the plate, incapable of having this talk, not wanting to let him know what you were thinking.

“Answer me, (Y/N.)” He ordered, the fine lines beside his eyes crinkling with frustration.

The sharp change in his tone made you grip harder at the silverware, eyes still focused downwards. Yet your lips moved and that delicate voice of yours drifted into the empty space between them. “Cause’ whenever I’m near you, it feels like I’m drowning.”

Happy’s heart sank, trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. Yet his face remained expressionless as he sat there, focused on his woman. He was about to speak when you interrupted by tossing the fork onto the plate, shoving it away with disgust.

“When I look at you, I am reminded of what happened to me. And I can’t help but place the blame on you because none of this would have happened if I wasn’t your god damn wife!” You shouted, scooting back in your chair, the legs screeching against the tiled floor. With ease you were soon standing up, frantic eyes now narrowed at him.

He sat there, taking whatever, you had to say because he knew what you said was true. Your hand gripped the plate before flinging it at the wall, listening to the shattering of the glass. He didn’t flinch nor tense up, knowing that you needed to express everything you had kept in.

Then suddenly there was a shift in emotions in the air, and you were breathlessly grasping the chair in front of you. “But I know it’s not your fault and it’s not SAMCRO’s. And I hate myself for trying to pin any of it on you Hap, but my heart and my mind are so confused and destroyed.”

Since the incident, you hadn’t cried in front of him willingly. Happy had heard the strained sobs from the bathroom or the bedroom, knowing you thought you were alone. Yet he had heard it all, and it completely eviscerated him. He couldn’t help his woman, because you were also too strong and too stubborn to let him.

“I can hear you crying, ya know. At night, when you think no one is listening.” He stated softly.

He watched the widening of your pupils and the trembling of your lower lip. At that moment, you finally broke, the walls you had built were now crumbling beneath the flood of your tears. The salty liquid tore tracks down your cheeks as you found a sense of panic enveloping you.

“H-Happy… I don’t want to talk about it.” You struggled to keep control, but he knew you needed to let it all go.

He pushed himself to his full stature, muscular legs drawing him closer to you. His frame towered over yours, his dark eyes solely fixated on the woman in front of him. Both of his thumbs swiped over your cheeks, smoothing the tears away. “You don’t need to hold it in little girl, it’s not healthy. What you went through is a shitty thing. Be mad, be sad, just feel something.” He held your face between his strong hands.

You kept staring at him, allowing him to touch you. Then weakness overwhelmed your body as you leaned into him for support. It all came rushing back, the rape, the beatings, being used as a pawn to get back at SAMCRO. It all was unleashed, and you were a sobbing mess in the strong arms of the man you were in love with.

Happy’s tightened his hold around you, his lips by your cheek as he just let you cry. “I love you girl, and I will kill every one of those peckerwood bastards. No one and I mean no one will ever touch you again. I will burn this fuckin’ world to the ground to keep you safe. You are mine, forever.” He vowed.

You and Happy stood there, intertwined with one another, no more words being spoken as you allowed the damage that was dealt to both of you, slowly began to heal.


End file.
